Fragile Strength
by Bren Gail
Summary: She was not the strong Supervisory Special Agent that she pretended to be. She was the fragile and vulnerable woman whose live-in boyfriend had decided that it would be best to relocate their son to Louisiana, but for her to stay behind in Virginia.


_Inspired by the following lyrics from Delta Goodrem's song Fragile: _

_Sometimes I feel like I'm alone._

_Sometimes I feel like I'm not that strong._

_Sometimes I feel nothing at all._

_Sometimes I feel vulnerable._

_Sometimes I feel a little fragile._

_A little fragile._

* * *

**Fragile Strength**

The office was dark, because the lights were off.

The lights were off, because the owner of the office wanted to hide.

Scrunched up in an upward fetal position, behind the desk and chair and on the cold bare floor, the owner of the office hid, because she subconsciously hoped that it would make her invisible.

Invisible to any that the closed door and pitch-black office did not fool.

Invisible to her life, because if she were invisible then perhaps she could fool herself into believing the lie that she had everyone tricked to believe.

She was not the strong and fierce Communications Liaison and Supervisory Special Agent that she pretended to be.

She was the fragile and vulnerable woman whose live-in boyfriend had decided that it would be best to relocate _their_ son to Louisiana, but for _her_ to stay behind in Virginia. He had taken the coward's way out and had left her a letter explaining what he decided, when he had, and why. She had found it after returning from a case that had lasted three terrible weeks. Will had cruelly claimed that she lived at the BAU and implied that because of her long hectic hours that she did not love her or would even miss her son. As she remembered the cruel letter, silent sobs shook her shoulders first then her entire body began to quake.

Her son meant more to her than anything did, but she felt that her job protected and provided for him. She did not love her career more than him. Her career was a by-product of her love for him. She captured monsters who roamed the streets that put her baby and other mothers' babies in jeopardy. She was keeping her baby safe. Was that not what a mother was supposed to do? Love, nurture, and protect?

She was lost, confused, and hurting. There were so many thoughts and scenarios running through her head. The what-ifs and could have been plagued her.

What if she had transferred or quit when she learned that she was pregnant?

What if she had listened to him and asked for personal leave so that they could take a family vacation?

What if she had lessened her responsibilities at work?

What if she had requested an assistant like other Communication Liaison had done in the past?

What if she had taken the promotion that the state department had offered her not once, not twice, but three times?

And so many other useless, time wasting, and energy wasting what ifs drained her of her self-confidence.

The question was not would her friends help her, but when would she enlighten her friends of what Will had done. She was pointlessly afraid that they too would share Will's opinion of her motherhood, that she was a bad mother for working full time and often over time.

She knew that her friends would side with her and help her get her baby back, yet subconsciously she could not help, but question what they would do or think. She had not expected Will to do the things that he had done, but he had. Was she not a good judge of character anymore?

It took several minutes of struggling to inhale and exhale properly, wiping away panicked tears, and memories of holding and kissing her baby to find the resolve to dig deep within her to find the pugnacious spirit she had always grasped unto when she felt threatened. She gingerly stood from the fetal position that she had been in for more than an hour, With each step, she took to prepare to fight for her baby, and fight the insecurities and what-ifs that Will had left behind, the fragile strength of a mother, became stronger.

She would get her baby back and her baby daddy would regret the day that he had tried to eliminate her from her child's life.

One should did not mess with a Momma Bear and her baby cub without expecting some sort of hellacious consequence.

Jennifer Jareau knew people who knew people that paid people to deliver hellacious consequences to deserving folk.

And a hellacious consequence was exactly what Will LaMontagne received.


End file.
